


Things Unseen

by codswallop



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Blindfolds, Character Study, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/pseuds/codswallop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam. Gene. Slightly kinky blindfold sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to travels_in_time for reading this and making some suggestions, and to the_silver_sun for britpicking.

The blindfold was Sam's idea.

Because Gene had this _thing_ about only doing it in the dark, turned out; it took Sam a while to figure out what was going on and another while to decide to bring it up. Finally: "Why?" he said one night, when Gene reached up to hit the light switch just as things were shifting into high gear. (They didn't bother with formalities or excuses so much any more; by the third or fourth time, Gene didn't even try to explain what he was doing coming round Sam's flat at eight or nine at night on a Saturday, they just started right in on each other as though they'd been starved for it all week. Which they had.)

"Why what?" Gene snapped, turning to glare at Sam with his hand on the switch.

"You know. Why've you got to put out the lights every time?"

"I don't." Gene put on his best _what are you on about now, you loony bastard_ expression, which Sam saw quite enough of at work to realize was a cover-up for something half the time. "What, you want 'em on? Fine, whatever, I don't care."

"Yeah? So leave 'em on, then," Sam challenged. "I like to see what I'm doing, you know? Get back here."

It became apparent pretty quickly that Gene did care, though; all of a sudden he was stiff where he should have been loose, soft where he should be stiff. And he wouldn't make eye contact with Sam at all.

"Christ, all right, put the damn lights out if you're going to have a big hang-up about it," Sam sighed eventually, and got up to switch the lamp off himself.

"Oh, so it's a _hang-up_ now, is it," Gene scoffed. "Cut out the hippie-dippy psychology crap, why don't you, and let's just get back to the business at hand here."

So they did that, although Sam held back a bit at first, worrying at the idea, but Gene had got pretty good by now at knowing how to switch off Sam's brain. Mainly, it seemed, by diverting the blood flow to other areas of his body.

*

"It's not because you're pretending I'm someone else, is it?" Sam panted in the dark, still straddling Gene. He braced himself up on his forearms, squinting to see what he could of Gene's face in the shadows.

"Oh, Jesus and Mary, give us a rest!" Gene flopped back against the pillow, limbs thrown out spread-eagled, all but spilling off the narrow bed. "Tell me, _please_ tell me you're not about to start trying to have _conversations_ about this like some sodding... _bird_!"

"All right," Sam said, stung. "But--"

"I mean," Gene went on, heating up now. "Why in the hell would I go to all the trouble and bother of...of all this, just to pretend you were someone else? If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd bloody... _be_ with someone else, and save myself an arseload of misery!"

"Well, then." Sam stretched up to switch on the lamp again, ignoring Gene's loud moan of protest. "So why don't you want to look at me while we're, you know...?"

"I do want to look at you! I look at you all the-- Oh, for the--" Gene was fairly sputtering now. "You _are_ turning into a bird, aren't you? I knew it. Are you growing tits and all?"

Sam realized he'd probably do better to leave it alone at this point. "Hilarious," he said dryly, and draped himself carefully back down on top of Gene. He held his tongue for all of thirty seconds. Then: "But it's just _weird,_ Gene. Is it...have you been this way with other people, or...I mean, with women too, or is it because--"

Gene got up quickly, causing Sam to topple right off him and onto the floor. "I don't appreciate the psychoanalysis," he said shortly, snatching up his scattered clothes and starting to pull them on. "Some things are _meant_ to happen in the dark, Sam. Leave it, will you?"

Sam sighed. "Look. I didn't mean anything. Gene? Come on, come back." Gene turned away, buttoning his shirt, and Sam got up and went over to him, wrapping his arms around Gene from behind and catching his hands, stopping them. "It's just, I'd like to see _you_ ," Sam murmured, and felt Gene tense and pull away. "Oh," he said, realizing. "Is that it? It's not you don't want to see me, it's you don't want me seeing you?"

Gene ignored him, stepping into his shoes. "Got to be going," he said, though of course he didn't and Sam knew it, but he also knew better than to try and hold Gene there once he'd made up his mind.

"Right." Sam sighed again, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Go, then. See you Monday." He got back into bed, turning his back and pretending to fall asleep until Gene had gone. He thought he could feel Gene hesitating, hovering over him for a moment, but then the door clicked shut behind him without a touch or a word. _Stubborn old bastard,_ Sam thought, only half-fondly.

*

They didn't mention it again, and if they were a bit more than usually hostile towards each other over the next few days, so much the better, Sam supposed. It was often difficult to keep up the impression of casual enmity with someone when you were envisioning yourself running your hands up their thighs and undoing their flies while they reviewed case files. They'd been getting terrifyingly incautious lately. One day last week Gene had thoughtlessly put a hand down on Sam's shoulder while leaning over him to examine a particularly gruesome crime scene photo, and Sam had rubbed his cheek against him, like a cat. If anyone happened to see them like that, all but fondling each other in the workplace...well. No danger of that this week, it seemed.

So Sam was taken aback when Gene turned up at his place midweek, just showed up at the door looking crosser than usual. Gene didn't say a word, but his very silence was a huge admission, as Sam saw it. He blinked a couple of times and then shrugged it off, leading the way upstairs without so much as a raised eyebrow. Sam slapped off the lights as they entered the flat and Gene was all over him, cold hands inside his clothes and warm mouth at his neck, and that was apparently that.

*

The next Saturday, though. When Gene showed up that evening and tried to get down to business as usual, Sam stopped him almost at once, breaking it off after no more than two or three famished kisses.

"Two things," he said, gently pushing Gene back as he fished in his pockets. "One:" He held up a key, which he handed to Gene. "I have had it with running up and down these bloody stairs. Just knock before you let yourself in, will you? Two:" He cleared his throat and showed what was in his other hand, which was a tie. A plain black narrow tie. "So you can see me but I can't see you," Sam explained, holding the strip of fabric up to his eyes for a moment in demonstration. "Want to try it?"

Gene frowned as though he didn't get it at first, and then his eyebrows went up. "Talk about _weird_ , Tyler." He grabbed the tie away from Sam and tossed it onto the bed. "Two blokes going at it not perverted enough for you? No, you really have to push the envelope, is that it?"

Sam just shrugged and grinned, daring him on. "Suppose so. Thought it might be fun to try it, anyways. Why? Scared?"

Gene gave a snort. "Cheap shot," he observed, pulling Sam towards him again and leaning down to apply his tongue to the hollow at the base of Sam's throat--a spot Sam had noticed him eyeing more than once during the work week, making him shift in his chair with delicious discomfort. Not that he'd been wearing his shirts open to the third button on _purpose_ or anything. It was '70s fashion, wasn't it? Just blending in. Gene nipped at his collarbone now and Sam tilted his head back and gave a choked-off whimper, letting his eyelids flutter shut. Again, not _entirely_ a calculated move.

"Right," he heard Gene murmur into his neck. "Just the one time, mind. And then you'll stay off my case?"

"Definitely," Sam agreed, just managing to keep his voice serious, hoping he could keep the smug grin from showing in his eyes. He'd known his suggestion was a bit of a gamble; he'd more than half expected Gene to refuse, maybe even storm out again.

But Gene was all for it, suddenly--couldn't tie the blindfold onto him fast enough, it seemed. He pulled the knot tight and spun Sam back around to face him, hands on his shoulders. Something about the gesture felt familiar, wakening ancient muscle-memories from childhood games. Gene had had the same thought, apparently. "It's like blind-man's-buff," he remarked. "I should spin you round and round till you're dizzy now. Make you search for me."

"I'm already dizzy," Sam told him, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the ground. "Kiss me again and I might fall down."

"On your knees is a good look for you," Gene agreed. He lifted Sam's vest off him and walked him backwards, till the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed, then gave a light shove, toppling him onto his back. Then there was a long, silent pause.

Sam shivered, suddenly nervous. _Very_ nervous, actually.

He was, he realized, completely unprepared for the reality of how it would feel to lie there, blind and exposed, knowing that Gene was about to touch him but not where or how. He'd never tried anything like this with anyone before--wasn't sure where the idea had come from, really. And his previous encounters with Gene had mostly been of the hot, hard, and fast variety, with too much rough urgency for either of them to think about any kind of...experimentation. Besides, Gene Hunt, _Gene Hunt_ , who would have thought he'd be the sort to get playful?

Sam was learning a lot about Gene Hunt that he'd never expected, though. He turned out to have a real capacity for delayed self-gratification, for one thing. He didn't touch Sam at all for absolutely ages, though Sam could feel the weight of his gaze--and then realized he was also feeling Gene's breath, light and teasing against the bared skin of his chest and stomach.

"God, that _tickles_." Sam gave a laugh that came out much too high-pitched.

"Yeah?" Gene said, his voice low and intimate and startlingly close to Sam's right ear now, making him shiver again. Sam reached for him and caught empty air.

"Oh, no you don't," Gene said from farther off. "I'm in the driver's seat now, Sammy. Gonna make this last for a bit, I think."

Sam laughed again, disbelieving. "Really? Really. You think you can--oh." He broke off as Gene gave a light tweak to one of his nipples, then the other--God, he felt that right down in his cock. Sam gave an uncomfortable squirm as Gene's touch vanished again, leaving him in the aching void.

"I could do this all night." Gene sounded fascinated. He pressed his palm to the bulge in Sam's trousers, rubbing him through the fabric for an all-too-fleeting moment, chuckling when Sam tried to thrust up against his hand and met...nothing. "Question is, how long are _you_ going to hold out?"

Sam lay back gasping, cursing under his breath, and wondered if he'd just created a monster. He _could_ , of course, rip off the blindfold at any time and bring an end to the whole business. But Gene had managed to turn it into a contest of wills somehow, damn him, and Sam had to admit it, he liked the head-butting and sparring thing they had going on. It was...all right, sometimes it was _hot_.

Like hell was he going to let Gene win this one, though. Sam unbuckled his belt and stripped off his trousers, then lay back down in just his pants, which were now stretched tight over what felt like the world's largest hard-on; how long would Gene be able to keep his hands off _that_?

Quite a long time, it turned out. Gene seemed determined to play the tease. He began giving Sam a brush of his fingertips here, a nip or a lick there. Belly, thighs, palm of his hand, inner crook of his elbow. At first Sam laughed every time he did it, nervous, ticklish laughter, but as the game went on he stopped laughing and grew more and more tense, a bowstring stretched to the snapping point.

"Look at you now," Gene murmured, from much too far away. He sounded vastly amused. "Like a virgin on your wedding night, aren't you. Just lying there... _waiting_ for it."

Sam's hips were moving restlessly with arousal now; he couldn't hold still. He imagined Gene finally leaning forward to nuzzle his erection through the thin cotton of his pants, pulling his underwear down with his teeth... "Come on, have a heart," Sam begged. He reached out, swiping at the air in front of him and finding nothing. "I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands if you don't help me out here, you know."

That hit the mark, Sam thought; he could have sworn he heard a clicking swallow in the silence that followed. When Gene finally spoke, though, his voice came out nearly as casual as though Sam had just suggested they stop in at the chippy on their way back to the station. "Yeah, all right," Gene told him. "Go on. Do that."

*

If you had to masturbate in front of someone else for the first time, Sam decided, if you absolutely balls-out _had to_ do it, blindfolded was definitely the way to go. He could almost pretend he was alone in his room, in the dark, on one of those long nights when Gene didn't show up and Sam was left with only his own restless hands on his body, trying to keep the loneliness at bay.

Not so lonely this time, though. Not with his keen awareness of Gene's ragged breathing only a few feet away, egging him on. Sam rubbed at his lower belly, letting the heat build there for a minute, then bit his lip and let his fingers dip below his waistband.

Gene made a sound, low in his throat, and Sam paused. "Want to give me a hand?" he suggested.

"You seem to be doing fine on your own." Gene's tone was still light, but he'd had to clear his throat to get the words out, Sam noticed. He heard the clink of Gene's belt buckle, the whisper of fabric, and his cock grew even harder in his loose grasp-- _Pavlovian reflex,_ Sam thought wildly. He shoved his own pants down and cast them aside, entirely exposed now, and the air was like a cool caress against his overheated skin.

"Keep going," Gene told him, low and encouraging, his voice suddenly close again. Sam startled at a light touch against his lips, and craned his neck upward, seeking more, but Gene disappeared again after the merest brush of Sam's mouth with his own.

Sam bit off the whimper of complaint that rose in his throat. He could _feel_ the intensity of Gene watching him, he was sure Gene was touching himself now too, and it made him shudder with an odd mix of feelings he didn't even want to try and name.

Sam turned his head away, his eyes tightly shut behind the blindfold, and then he spat into his hand and began to stroke himself in earnest. He was flushed and sweating now, working almost mechanically toward climax, ready for it to be over. They'd created this distance between them now, seer and seen, and he didn't know how to close the gap. Despite the intimacy of letting Gene see him like this, he'd somehow never seemed further away.

And then the bed creaked precariously with Gene's weight--Christ, it really was just going to collapse one of these nights--Gene was straddling him, pushing Sam's hand impatiently aside, mouth warm on his lower belly, and--

He was dreaming, Sam decided; that explained a lot. He was definitely dreaming, because Gene Hunt would never do this, he _knew_ Gene Hunt, Gene Hunt _categorically_ didn't give head, and therefore he would never, ever let Sam's cock anywhere near the wet heat of his mouth, never let it slide inside, soft lips clamping around him all tight and hot and perfect and--

"Oh, fuck," Sam breathed. "What the _fuck,_ Gene. Please, just--" He fumbled for the blindfold, then froze as Gene stopped.

"Yeah, all right," Gene said, his voice tight and rough now, and then his hands were at Sam's temples, helping him ease the fabric up from his eyes. The sudden shock of light hit him like a blow. Dazed and dazzled, he couldn't focus on anything at all at first, and then Gene's eyes hit him like a revelation, wide and shocked and clear as glass; he could see all the way down to the bottom, Sam thought dizzily.

"Gorgeous," Sam managed. "Just...yeah. You. Gorgeous." That was asking for it, he realized too late; you just didn't _say_ things like that to Gene Hunt, not unironically.

But Gene didn't deck him or get up and leave the room or say anything crude, not this time. Just slid back down and started, hesitantly, awkwardly, to suck him, and Sam lost the ability to form words at all, probably forever, he decided. He was about to be blown into a vegetative state by his DCI, and then he'd be completely buggered in 1973 as well as 2006, or maybe if he were in a coma in 1973 he'd be awake again in 2006, but he didn't _want_ to be awake in the future if he could be getting head from Gene in 1973--

"Jesus, shut up, you pansy-arsed lunatic," Gene stopped to say, and Sam realized he'd been babbling half out loud.

"Right, all right," Sam panted, and was soon unable to speak except in breathless cries, shuddering, coming undone, blinded.

*

"I don't know," Gene said, taking a drag off his cigarette; it was the only time Sam would ever let him get away with smoking in his flat. "Just wanted to try it out, like. Don't go getting all used to it," he warned.

They were sprawled on the floor now, the only place they could ever really relax post-coitally in Sam's flat--and "relax" was a relative term for Sam, given the state of the carpet, but for once he couldn't bring himself to care about it. The tie had been tossed to the corner, but Gene had put the lights out again.

"And?" Sam reached for the cigarette and took a drag of his own, then started to cough. He handed it back, ignoring Gene's snort of laughter. "What's the verdict?"

Gene thought about it. Sam knew the look he'd have on, the pensive stormy frown. "Weird," he said finally, and Sam doubted he'd ever get anything more descriptive out of him than that. "The look on your face, though," Gene went on, surprising him. "Like a kid on Christmas morning. Priceless." He reached out stroked his thumb across Sam's lips, and Sam bit at it reflexively, then sucked it into his mouth, which saved him from trying to say anything that might ruin the moment.

"Thing is," Gene said into the shadows, reclaiming his hand and drawing on his cigarette again. "I just can't _see_ us together. You and me. You know?"

Sam still didn't say anything for a bit. "Works in the dark, though," he ventured finally.

"Hmph." Gene left it at that for so long that Sam decided he'd fallen asleep, and was about to take the cigarette from him when Gene sat up and stubbed it out on the cracked saucer Sam had begrudgingly designated for the purpose. "Candles," he murmured, laying back down and getting comfortable, taking the lion's share of Sam's lone pillow on the floor.

 _"What?"_

"Candles. Candlelight's nice. Could try that sometime."

"And _I'm_ the pansy-arse?" Sam demanded. "Ow! All right. Candles it is."

"Just don't even think of asking me to drip the wax onto your sensitive areas, you kinky bastard."

"Hadn't occurred to me, actually. But now you mention it... _Ow!_ Right, you can let yourself out any time here, you know."

Silence.

"Can let myself back in now, too," Gene pointed out.

"Yeah." Sam figured he didn't need to tell Gene that he'd really only brought out the blindfold in an attempt to distract him from the key. It had seemed too glaringly significant all on its own. "Look, about that. It's not...you know. I mean I'm not saying this is..."

"No, no," Gene said quickly. "Course not." He shifted away from Sam, rolling over onto his back with a sigh.

Sam wondered if the after-sex part was just always going to be awkward and difficult with Gene. He echoed the sigh.

And then Gene suddenly shifted back, surprising him--when would he ever learn not to be surprised?--by spooning tightly up against him, nuzzling into the hollow of his neck. "Better stay on your toes is all, Gladys," Gene murmured. "I'll be popping round at all hours now, see if I can catch you putting on a show like that again."

Sam was grateful now for the darkness that hid the goofy grin he couldn't keep back. He settled in against Gene's warm bulk, made a mental note to do his wanking in the loo from now on, and sought refuge in his best defence: feigned sleep.


End file.
